


For What Comes Next

by missbecky



Series: For What Comes Next [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Recovery, Spoilers, based on the trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:59:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: In his head he sees the words of that email, so long ago burned into his brain where he’ll never forget them.Eggsy, I saw in you what someone once saw in me. Something that can’t be taught. The makings of a Kingsman.That can be Harry again. He knows it. Heknowsit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the first teaser trailer for Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and [the interview Matthew Vaughn gave to Empire.](http://www.empireonline.com/movies/features/kingsman-golden-circle-11-things-learned-teaser/)

_Eggsy, I saw in you what someone once saw in me. Something that can’t be taught. The makings of a Kingsman. Being a Kingsman is more than the clothing we wear or the weapons we bear. It’s about being willing to sacrifice for the greater good. I hope you’re ready for what comes next…_

He’s read the email so many times he knows the words by heart.

He never got to read it when it really mattered, when it could have made a difference. By the time he finally read those words, pulled off Harry’s computer by Merlin three weeks after V-Day, Kingsman had already pronounced him dead, drank their toast, and handed Eggsy his name along with the keys to his house.

Eggsy had cried the first time he read the email, which had apparently been sitting in Harry’s Drafts folder. The time stamp made it clear he had started writing it on the trip to Kentucky. There was nothing to indicate why he stopped halfway through, or why he never sent it.

Over the months the email has become something of a talisman. He recites it to himself when he’s trapped under enemy fire. He sees the words floating on a blank screen in his mind when he’s staring up at another person planning to hurt him in order to make him talk. He even hears Harry speaking them, although that is growing harder over time as he forgets what the rich timbre of Harry’s voice sounded like.

No one believed in him before Harry Hart.

Of course his mum had done her best, and he knows she loves him with all her heart. But that’s different. It’s not the same thing. And anyway Harry was the one who picked him up and forced him to look at himself in the mirror -- and accept that what he saw was not a bad person, but a good man just waiting for the chance to prove it to the rest of the world.

He misses Harry terribly. More than anything he wishes he could look into Harry’s eyes one more time and thank him. For all of it, of course, but oddly enough mostly for that email, the one he never got to send.

****

It’s all over and there’s just the details to sort out, and Eggsy just wants to be gone. Not that he didn’t enjoy working with Whiskey (who still won’t tell him his real name) or his glimpse of what life is like at Statesman, but he doesn’t belong here. America is not his home, and it never will be.

There might not be a Kingsman anymore, but London hasn’t gone anywhere. And his mum and Daisy are still there, waiting for him to come back.

“There’s just one thing to decide,” Merlin says. He’s still standing with Ginger; they’ve got on like a house on fire, and Eggsy suspects they’ll stay in touch after this is all over. He looks meaningfully at Eggsy.

Eggsy knows perfectly well what that “one thing” is. It’s been obvious from the start, as much as he might not want to accept it. He meets Merlin’s gaze head on, unflinching. “He’s coming with us.”

“Of course he is,” Merlin says. Next to him, Ginger carefully steps back, apparently not wanting to be part of this conversation. “But he can’t stay with any of us.”

Eggsy’s jaw tightens. He knows the look he’s got on his face now -- it’s the same one he had when he stared mutinously at Harry all those months ago in the Black Prince, hearing Harry talk shit about him.

He doesn’t care. “Why the hell not? He’s got nowhere else to go, in case you forgot.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Merlin replies calmly. “But you and I both know Harry is not a Kingsman anymore.”

Eggsy holds his breath so he doesn’t answer right away. It’s the only thing keeping him from blurting out something exceptionally ugly.

The thing is, Merlin is right. He still doesn’t know what happened to Harry in between getting shot outside that church and them finding him here, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Harry has lost more than just his eye. He’s lost some essential part of himself, something that made him into Galahad, Kingsman agent, the man Eggsy fell in love with.

It’s not that Harry’s forgotten them. Nothing that simple. It’s more like some outer layer has been stripped away. Like all the trappings of civilisation have been brutally peeled back, and the man who’s left is practically a stranger. The first time he looked at Eggsy and Merlin as they entered his cell, Eggsy had _felt_ the cold caress of Harry’s gaze, the way Harry measured and assessed them, mentally determining four different ways he could kill them even before they took three steps into the room.

He’s still perfectly polite, of course. Still says please and thank you. But it’s all lip service now. The gentleman (first and foremost) is gone.

Maybe he’s the one who died under that Kentucky sun.

But Eggsy isn’t about to let that change anything. He knows Harry is still in there And even if he isn’t, well, too fucking bad.

“It don’t matter,” he says. While Merlin just stares at him, giving nothing away with that expressionless face of his. “It don’t fucking matter. That’s Harry, Merlin! Harry! And I ain’t fucking giving up on him.”

Merlin blinks, but still seems unmoved. “Eggsy…”

“No,” he retorts. “No, you don’t get to fucking look at me like that. Harry was the only one who ever believed in me, who ever thought I was worth anything. And I ain’t giving up on him. You do what you want. But I’m gonna be here for him. All the way.”

In his head he sees the words of that email, so long ago burned into his brain where he’ll never forget them. _Eggsy, I saw in you what someone once saw in me. Something that can’t be taught. The makings of a Kingsman._

That can be Harry again. He knows it. He _knows_ it. 

Harry just needs someone to believe in him, the way he once believed in a street thief from the estates. He needs to not be a prisoner, not kept in a padded cell like a lunatic, not treated like he’s made of glass. He needs a good suit, an umbrella in his hand, a proper haircut. He needs a martini made with gin while glancing at an unopened bottle of vermouth. He needs to go home, wherever that might be now that his beautiful white house is destroyed.

He needs Eggsy.

“I can’t let you be responsible,” Merlin starts to say. For the first time he sounds weary, as battered as he must feel. For the first time Eggsy gets the impression that he feels almost guilty about all this, about having to shut Harry out.

“Don’t care,” Eggsy says stubbornly. “I’m already responsible. I’m okay with that.”

Merlin looks like he has a dozen things to say in answer to that. Thankfully he says none of them. He just nods a little in surrender.

Which is good, because Eggsy’s had enough of this conversation. He turns on his heel and walks swiftly down the corridor and up the stairs, toward the guest room where Harry is currently staying, courtesy of Statesman.

He knocks on the closed door, remembering with a faint smile that day he failed to do so when he visited a newly-awakened Harry in the Kingsman infirmary. He waits, wondering what he’ll do if Harry fails to invite him in, but then he hears the quiet command, “Come in.”

He opens the door and steps inside. Right away he feels the cold weight of Harry’s gaze, that sensation of being assessed, the challenge that his mere presence creates. Carefully he closes the door and turns around so he’s directly facing Harry.

“So,” he says, “you ready to go home?”

“Yes,” Harry says quickly. “It’s about fucking time.”

Eggsy waits, unsure what to say next. Harry knows his house is gone; there was time on the trip to the mountain for some explanations and even though he hadn’t meant to blurt out such bad news, he had found himself telling it all anyway. Harry hadn’t said much on finding out, and what with all the fighting for their lives there hadn’t really been any time for extended meaningful conversations, but all that shit is over with. There’s time now.

“Am I to be your prisoner now, then?” Harry asks. There’s the faintest stress on _your_. With the patch over one eye it’s harder than ever to tell what he’s really thinking. Merlin had made a vague promise of a prosthetic, Kingsman-issue, of course, but that’s in the future. If it happens at all.

“Fuck no,” Eggsy says emphatically. Then he takes a deep breath. “But we do gotta find somewhere to live. I mean, since there’s kinda nowhere right now.”

Harry blinks. He doesn’t move, but something in him seems to stand down then, a shadow that was looming before suddenly dwindling. “Yes, that would seem to be an issue,” he says quietly.

“We’ll sort it out,” Eggsy says. He smiles.

Harry doesn’t exactly smile back, but his face softens. He nods a little. “All right.”

“Good,” Eggsy says. “So come on. Let’s go.” He opens the door again and steps out into the hall, waiting for Harry to follow.

_I hope you’re ready for what comes next…_


	2. Chapter 2

The flight back home is long, but it feels longer when he has to make it under the weight of Harry's stare. Eggsy can only occasionally bring himself to return that stare. Every time he does, he feels himself seem to shrink a little. There's just something so disturbing about that flat, calm stare, the way Harry hardly seems to blink, the way he always keeps Eggsy in his sights.

Somewhere over the Atlantic it hits him, what that stare reminds him of. A few years ago he was watching some nature documentary on telly, something about lions hunting. The way that lion on TV gazed unblinking at its prey, silent and still for hours, that's what Harry's stare reminds him of.

_And am I supposed to be the fucking prey here?_

He shrugs off the thought, glances over at Harry – yeah, still staring at him – then looks away again.

He's supposed to have it all figured out, but honestly, he knows fuck all. He doesn't know why Harry is like this, or what happened to him. And he sure as hell can't ask.

Maybe it was Valentine's signal. Harry was exposed to it longer than anyone else, after all. Maybe getting shot in the head so soon after the signal did something, scrambled his brains.

Or maybe it was what happened after. Maybe they tortured him until they drove him mad somehow. Maybe it was being locked away in a padded cell for so long. Solitary confinement can drive people insane, everyone knows that.

Or maybe he'll never know, because he doesn't have the guts to ask, and Harry sure as fuck isn't telling.

****

A bit closer to home, he calls Roxy. She was one of the lucky ones, away on a mission when everything Kingsman in England was destroyed. She's back there now, though, working with Percival and Tristan to try and get things sorted out. They've managed so far to keep their secrets from the police and insurance agents, although the piles of rubble and debris have certainly helped.

There are safe houses they could use, but no one trusts them now. Anything could be compromised. Nothing is to be trusted. Nothing is safe.

Roxy books them two hotel rooms. Nothing too fancy, but nothing too cheap either. Average accommodations, for three average blokes.

Sure.

****

As they cross the lobby, Eggsy holding the key to their room, it occurs to him that Harry is most likely planning to do a runner. He might have the courtesy to wait until Eggsy is asleep to take off, but if he's too impatient, he might not even bother. Might just bash Eggsy over the head as soon as they get inside, steal his money and his phone, and head out.

Merlin walks behind them, a bit slower. He has a room of his own, down the hall from theirs. He hasn't given Eggsy any dire warnings, hasn't made any comment at all, really, but he hasn't needed to. One stern look was enough to remind Eggsy that he's in deep shit with no fucking clue what to do about it.

He does know enough, though, to say one thing as the lift starts up toward their floor. "I hope you ain't planning to run," he says. It's funny how his old accent comes out when he's not actively playing the part of a gentleman. Some things really can't be taught, it seems. "You know they'll put out a kill order on you if you do."

Harry gives him that look again, that flat, predatory stare. Beneath it, Eggsy feels his heart start to beat faster, and heated blood rushes to his cheeks.

"I'm sure I'm more experienced than you in such matters," Harry says coldly. "But you needn't worry. As you have pointed out, I have nowhere to go."

That's complete bullshit, but Eggsy knows better than to say so. He expects Harry has half a dozen boltholes he could escape to, although come to think of it, Merlin probably knows about most of them, which means they are off-limits right now. So maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe he really does have nowhere to go.

Or maybe he's just tired of it all. Maybe he, like Eggsy, is waiting to see what happens next.

Their room is nothing special. Two beds, a dresser, a TV bolted to the wall, a table with three chairs. A closet, a loo, fluffy towels and little paper-wrapped soaps on the counter next to the sink. But it's a place to finally stop hurtling forward, to finally sit down and relax, to finally stop.

Eggsy sighs a little as he sinks onto one of the rather uncomfortable chairs. He loosens his tie, probes at a loose tooth with his tongue, and wonders what's in the minibar.

Across from him, Harry remains standing. He's still in his suit, the one he wore to Kentucky, the one Eggsy thought he died in. The rent in the back where he was stabbed has been repaired, the blood has been washed from the pristine white shirt, and the shoes have been shined. It was with his things when Eggsy and Merlin found him, deliberately kept from him, of course, but still there.

All things considered, this is fortunate. Everything happened so fast, if they hadn't found the suit, he would have had to join them wearing nothing but the trackies they found him in.

"So what is your plan?" Harry asks.

Eggsy shrugs. "Dunno," he admits. He argued for so long with Merlin to get to this point, but he has absolutely no clue what comes next. Now that they're alone, he's on edge, but he's had long practice at not showing that kind of thing. It's like being around Dean again, working hard not to let on when he was angry or upset, because that just made everything worse.

But also he has the strong impression that he's got to take things easy. Harry is that hunting animal, all right, ready to explode into motion at any moment. And anything caught in his path is just gonna get mowed right the fuck down.

So Eggsy says, all casual, "You hungry?" The hotel has a restaurant, although he's not so sure that's such a good idea. Room service might work better.

"I can assure you you needn't treat me like I have the words 'Handle With Care' stamped on my forehead," Harry says icily.

Eggsy gives him a look. "What the fuck does that mean?" he demands. He stands up. "I'm fucking hungry is all. It's been a really fucking long day, in case you hadn't noticed."

Harry stares at him for a long moment, maybe considering whether to tear his throat out, before he relaxes ever so slightly. "Yes, it has," he murmurs.

"So I'm gonna call room service," Eggsy says. "You got about thirty seconds to decide if you want anything." He doesn't look up to see how that message is received. He just heads for the phone, which sits the far end of the dresser, near the door.

He's almost drawn even with the phone when Harry moves. Swifter than any human being ought to be, he lunges forward. Eggsy has trained with and fought the best, and he's still caught completely flat-footed. There's not a fucking thing he can do as Harry grabs him, spins him around and slams him up against the wall. Everything he ever learned about self-defense, from hard-earned lessons on the street to the sparring sessions with Roxy at Kingsman, desert him all at once. He just stands there, up against the wall, Harry's forearm against his throat, Harry's long leg shoved against his own, holding him still.

"What is it you want?" Harry hisses at him. He was always taller than Eggsy, of course, but the height difference between them feels exaggerated now. Like Eggsy's looking up at a carved statue of a man, not a person of actual flesh and blood.

"Nothing," Eggsy says, swallowing hard against the arm pressed to his throat. "You. Fuck. I don't know."

Harry glares down at him, and for the first time since they walked into his cell and let him out, he seems to be experiencing some emotion. His chest rises and falls as he breathes in, and his jaw is clenched. "You don't know anything," he says.

"The fuck I don't," Eggsy retorts. He's become the prey, no doubt about that, but he'll be fucked he goes down without a struggle.

"I know something happened to you. I don't know what it is, and I don't fucking care. I know Merlin says you can't be a Kingsman no more, and I don't fucking care about that, either."

Harry stares down at him, unblinking. Up close he smells of old blood and sweat, and a faint leather scent that must be the eye patch. He leans in, putting a little more pressure on Eggsy's throat, and Eggsy can't help coughing a little.

"I know you didn't give up on me. Even when I failed, when I couldn't shoot JB. You was still trying to make it work out for me, find a way to get me into Kingsman." He looks up at Harry with months of grief, of longing, of midnight _maybe_ s and late night _what if_ s crowding into his voice. "I know I ain't giving up on you. I don't care what happened to you. I know you're still in there. I know you're still Harry Hart. And I ain't giving up."

"Perhaps you should," Harry says, and now it sounds like he's the one choking.

"Fuck that," Eggsy says, and he lunges up and forward.

It's a sign of how distraught Harry is that he lets him. He doesn't relent on the pressure he's applying with his whole body, but now it's different. Now Eggsy is the one leaning into him.

Now Eggsy is kissing him.

It's everything he ever thought it would be, all those times he ever dared to let himself imagine it. Harry's mouth is hard and cold, like the man himself, but also incredibly warm and enticing, drawing him in, making him want more and more.

His mouth is bleeding but so what, it wouldn't be the first time today, and he strains against the arm at his throat, literally gasping for air, still needing more of their kiss, needing more of Harry.

And Harry pulls back. He stares down at Eggsy, and the tables have somehow turned. He's the one hunted now. There's something in his eye Eggsy can't describe, even though he ought to be able to. God knows he's seen it on his own face enough nights, staring into the mirror, wondering wildly _maybe_ and _what if_ and _if only._

"Eggsy," and it's the first time Harry has said his name since they found him.

Just that one word is enough to undo him. He wants to twist out from under Harry's arm, throw both arms around him and hold on tight. He wants to say, _It's gonna be okay, we'll figure it out._ He wants to say, _You're gonna be okay._ He wants to say, _I'm gonna be here for you like you were there for me._

He says nothing. He just looks up at Harry with his mouth bleeding and his throat constricted, and he says nothing.

A little quiver runs through Harry; Eggsy can feel it from head to toe, the way they're pressed together. Then Harry backs off for real, actually taking a step back, erasing all physical contact between them. He hesitates, then takes another step away.

"Whatever you're going to order," he says, and he might as well be an automaton for all the emotion in his voice, "get one for me too."

"Yeah, okay," Eggsy hears himself reply. Like he could give a flying fuck about room service right now.

But he's got to. Or at least act like he does. This is nothing he's ever prepared for, nothing he ever thought it would be like. This isn't Harry in front of him, and he's got to remember that. 

This is some wild thing caught and caged and now finally released.

And himself? Well he isn't a Kingsman either, that's for damn sure. Not when there isn't even a Kingsman anymore. But he's still Eggsy, he's still the _young man with potential_ , the one who _wanted to do something good in his life_ , the one who saved the world while trying to be someone else.

Harry walks away, toward the loo. Eggsy lets him go, perfectly aware that this by itself is a pretty big deal, for this new Harry to turn his back on someone he doesn't trust. And he tells himself he isn't going to ask, he really isn't, but he can't stop himself, he blurts out the words anyway.

"Harry, wait."

To his surprise, Harry does stop. He doesn't turn around, though. He just stands there, framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders tense beneath the suit. He doesn't speak.

"Did they tell you," Eggsy says, "that no one was coming for you? Did they tell you we all thought you were dead?"

Harry cocks his head ever so slightly, just enough that Eggsy can see the sharp line of his nose, the dark shadow of the eye patch. "They didn't need to," he says quietly. "I already knew."

He walks in the loo and shuts the door.

Eggsy stands where he is, his eyes burning and one hand held over his bleeding mouth, and tells himself fiercely that he is not going to fucking cry, he is not, he is not, he is _not_.

After a long while, he picks up the phone and he calls room service.


	3. Chapter 3

It's well past midnight, but neither one of them is sleeping.

By now Eggsy is feeling the effects of his fight against Poppy and her minions. All the bumps and bruises, the cuts and pulled muscles. In the morning he'll groan when he gets out of bed, and totter a little on his feet at first, like he's aged sixty years overnight. Certainly it'll feel that way.

But he can't fall asleep. Part of it is that he's reached that point beyond exhaustion, where every cell in his body cries out for sleep, but it's moved out of reach. But mostly it's the fact that he's not alone in this room, and there's a very real risk that he might never wake up again if he lets himself fall asleep.

On the bed nearest the door, Harry lies very still. He isn't faking being asleep or anything. He's just lying there. Shifting every so slightly every now and then, a welcome reminder that he's still human in spite of his terrifying new persona.

And maybe that's not quite right, what he was just thinking. Harry wouldn't kill him in his sleep. If Harry is going to kill him, he'll do it to his face. 

Oddly enough he finds that thought comforting. But he still can't sleep. 

"I killed them," he says. He didn't plan to say it, didn't plan on saying anything, but he can't endure the silence anymore. And at least this way he can pretend Harry is interested and listening, that he might even respond.

"Valentine and Gazelle," he says. "I killed them. Cause they were going to end the world, but mostly cause of you. They killed you and I wanted to fucking _end_ them."

As he expected, Harry doesn't reply to this. But now that he's started talking, Eggsy can't shut up. Maybe it's the darkness, making it easier to say things he normally wouldn't dream of actually saying out loud. Maybe it's the way he can't stop remembering that moment he first saw Harry behind that glass, when his whole life splintered into pieces for the second time.

"They made me an agent then. I guess they felt like they didn't have any choice. Plus I know Merlin made them do it." He stares out into the dark room, Harry just a darker blot of shadow lying across from him. "And I love it. I really fucking love it. Even the bad stuff.

"And it's all cause of you. Cause you saw something in me..." He hesitates, but why the fuck not. "I read your email. The one you started on the plane. Merlin found it and sent it to me. I read it so many times, I don't even know."

He hopes Harry remembers the email. He claimed to remember everything, in the brief time they all had together before the final fight against Poppy, but he could have been lying.

"And it always killed me that I wouldn't get to talk to you about it." He stares at Harry's silhouette. "That I wouldn't get to say thank you."

He's starting to feel stupid, talking shit in the dark to someone who clearly doesn't care. But he's come this far. He's got to say it. 

"So thanks. For everything. I think you mighta saved my life, you know? And so I just needed to tell you. Thank you, Harry."

Harry doesn't respond. But after a little while, he rolls onto his side, facing away from Eggsy and toward the door. 

"Good night," Eggsy says. 

Harry is silent. Eggsy flops over into his back and winces as all the little aches and pains in his body flare up at the sudden movement. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to fall asleep.

"Good night, Eggsy." The words drift across the darkness and land on his chest, light as a butterfly.

****

The thing he didn't take into account when he had Roxy book the hotel rooms is that there's nothing to do here. Even the old Harry would not be content to sit around and just watch telly. Especially when they got a spy agency to rebuild from the ground up.

Just after breakfast, though, Merlin makes it quite clear that neither one of them is to have anything to do with Kingsman today. "I don't want to see you near the shop," he says. "Or HQ."

Eggsy just nods. Normally he would be right there alongside Merlin and Roxy and Percival and whoever else is around, trying to help restore what's left of Kingsman. But he can't bring Harry, and that means finding an alternate way to spend the day.

"Go on," he says encouragingly. "Go do your thing. We'll be fine."

Merlin purses his lips and gives him a look. Eggsy knows he's thinking about their glasses, how they're useless now. The Kingsman servers are buried far underground, along with most everything that mattered at HQ, but there must have been an EMP or something, because right now they're offline. If something should happen to either him or Merlin, they'll have to use their cell phones to make contact. And even that extra delay, tiny as it would be, could mean the difference between a minor inconvenience and a catastrophe.

"Go on," Eggsy says. "It's fine."

Merlin looks at Harry, but he certainly gets no help from that quarter. Harry stares back at him the way he stared at Eggsy on the plane, all unblinking calm, like he could stand here all day and not move a muscle.

At last Merlin shakes his head a little in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Be back here at 8:00 tonight." He hesitates a moment, then walks out, clearly recognising that there's nothing more to be said.

After he leaves the silence seems oppressive. Eggsy bites at his lip, then regrets it as he remembers he was punched in the mouth during the chaos at Poppyland. "So," he finally says. "You wanna get out of here?"

Harry barely glances at him before he starts walking for the door. Caught off guard, Eggsy has just enough time to grab their room key and pat his pocket to make sure his phone is there before he's hurrying to follow along.

They don't speak as they take the lift down to the lobby. Eggsy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's still wearing yesterday's suit, which is thankfully dark enough to hide the bloodstains and gunpowder burns from all their fighting. His underwear is starting to feel pretty rank, but Harry must be in the same boat and he isn't complaining. So Eggsy just shuts his mouth and walks through the lobby right behind Harry.

It's still fairly early, and traffic is the usual mess of cabs and buses and far-off sirens. It's a warm day, though, and the sun is out, which is more than can be said for a lot of London mornings.

Two steps onto the pavement, and Harry stops dead. He just stands there, perfectly still in spite of the people walking past him. He tilts his head back a little and looks up into the blue sky over their heads, and then he closes his eye.

Eggsy watches all this and feels his heart shatter. How long has it been since Harry saw the sun? Since he stood outside that Kentucky church and waited to die?

It's too much. It's more than he can take. What the fuck was he thinking when he ordered Merlin to let Harry stay with him? What the fuck does he know about anything?

He's saved from bursting into tears right then and there by the approach of an older gent wearing a suit clearly bought off the rack. The man is obviously in a hurry, and impatient too. He bumps shoulders with Harry, gives him an annoyed squint, and moves on.

Swift as lightning, Harry's eye flies open. He turns his head to see who dared touch him, and Eggsy has the cold and certain feeling that this is going to end in bloodshed and TV headlines.

"Come on," he says, moving up just a little. Trying to get Harry's attention.

Fortunately it works. Harry fixes him with that unwavering glare, but now he seems genuinely angry, unlike all those other times he stared at Eggsy like this. Like he's just been deprived of something that really mattered to him. Like he's just lost something else, yet one more thing cruelly ripped away without his consent.

"Come on," Eggsy says again. He's only got a vague idea of where to go, but it feels right.

"Where?" Harry asks. He was quick in the shower this morning, using the hotel toiletries when possible instead of the ones Statesman gifted to them all. Supposedly the small bags were Champagne's idea, but Eggsy thinks it was probably Ginger who realised they had nowhere to go and literally not even a toothbrush to spare among them.

Even now, standing here wearing yesterday's suit (which hides the blood too, like Eggsy's), Harry looks perfectly put together. Tie crisply knotted, shoes shined up, pocket square turned around so the soiled part doesn't show. Without the pomade in his hair he looks younger almost, more approachable, which is a laugh considering what's become of him.

But Eggsy still loves him. Oh fuck, he loves him.

"I got an idea," he says. He's got some cash too, again thanks to Ginger. Which is good, because he's got no fucking clue where his debit card is.

They walk down the pavement, into the city. It only takes two blocks for Eggsy to realise that no matter what the flow of pedestrian traffic around them, Harry always keeps him on his right, within his now-limited line of vision. He walks fast, too, forcing Eggsy to keep up, even though he's supposedly the one leading this little expedition.

Roxy chose well when she selected their hotel; it doesn't take them long at all to arrive at Waterloo Station. From there it's a small matter of buying tickets, boarding the train, and getting settled in. Eggsy sends a text to Merlin to keep him in the loop and gets an immediate response: _You're bloody insane._

Grinning, he tucks his phone away and glances idly at the newspaper someone left here from a previous journey. Across from him, Harry sits upright and still, his gaze fixed on Eggsy's face.

An hour and a half later they arrive in Southampton. By then Eggsy is wishing he had eaten more at breakfast. He's also stiffened up considerably; when he first stands up as the train stops he lurches and nearly falls.

Harry's arm shoots out, ready to brace him if he's really about to go over. He stops short of making any actual contact, and he quickly withdraws the support when it becomes clear Eggsy doesn't need it – but Eggsy saw. He saw, and his heart quickens in his chest because Harry didn't have to do that. He didn't have to care.

But he did.

An hour later they're on the ferry, headed across the Solent. Most of the other passengers are inside, getting coffee and snacks, or staring down at their phones. Hardly anyone even glances at them, and no one speaks to them.

They stand at the rail on the passenger deck. Despite the abundant sunshine, it's a bit chilly with the wind from the sea, but Eggsy couldn't be pried away from his spot. He stands at Harry's right side, only a few inches separating them. Harry has his hands on the rail, so Eggsy keeps his left arm at his side, mindful of not getting too close.

He thinks it might be okay if he did, though. For once Harry's unwavering attention is not on him, or anyone else.

Harry stares out at the water, at the blue sky, at the sun climbing overhead. He leans forward slightly, apparently unaware that he's doing so. The wind makes a mess of his hair and tosses his jacket about, but he doesn't seem to care about that either. For the first time since he walked out of his cell, he looks relaxed.

Eggsy stays beside him, right where he belongs.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh fuck that," Eggsy snaps. "And fuck you, too."

Merlin utters a long-suffering sigh. "I won't hold that one against you, although I should."

Eggsy has nothing kind to say to this, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He had been cautiously optimistic when Merlin called, hoping that there was finally going to be some good news. And there was, of sorts. Working around the clock, the remaining Kingsman staff have cleared a few of their safe houses and announced that they are, in fact, safe. Those agents and staff who lost their homes now have a place to stay.

Eggsy had greeted the news with a smile at first. But that had rapidly changed when Merlin said, "I'm sorry, Eggsy. This offer is only for you."

"What the fuck does that mean?" he had demanded.

"You know what it means," Merlin had replied. "Harry cannot come with you. It's not safe. He is not to be trusted now that he's…"

He had hesitated ever so slightly, and Eggsy had plunged in ruthlessly. "Now that he's what? A psychopath? A murderer? He's still your fucking friend, ain't he?"

"Be very careful what you say next," Merlin had warned, his voice taut with suppressed emotion.

To which Eggsy had smartly responded, "Oh fuck that. And fuck you, too."

So that's where they are.

"So I guess we're done here," Eggsy says. He and Harry are still on the Isle of Wight. They've already missed the ferry they needed to take if they wanted to get the train that would get them back to the hotel on time. He's not really bothered by this, though.

Frankly he doesn't see any reason to hurry back.

"Eggsy." Merlin sounds tired. "There are protocols to be followed. There are—"

"Yeah, whatever," Eggsy says. He's done with this conversation. He expected more from Merlin, especially when it comes to Harry. Then again, just about everyone he's ever met in his life has disappointed him at one point or another. Merlin might as well join the ranks.

He ends the call and puts his phone away. He's going to need to buy a charger soon; his battery is down to 20%. But that's really the least of his concerns right now. He has to figure out what they're going to do with the rest of the day. Are they staying here? Returning to London? Setting out for some other location?

Money is an issue. His increasingly bad-smelling clothes are an issue. The way his whole body is so stiff and sore he groans just going down steps is an issue.

And then there's Harry to consider. Right now Harry is standing near the waterline, one hand in his pocket as he gazes out over Sandown Bay. Away to their left is the gleaming tackiness of the pier and all the tourists, but out here there are only the screaming gulls and the incoming waves to break the quiet.

Still, Eggsy had wandered off a fair distance before answering Merlin's call. He hadn't wanted Harry to hear anything of his conversation. Given how it went down, it seems he made the right choice.

He wanders back toward the water now. It's getting late and they really do have to decide where they go from here.

It's been a pretty good day, all things considered. They've mostly just kind of wandered around, hanging about on the fringes of things. Harry seems more uneasy in crowds, more rigid with tightly-controlled tension, which makes sense considering that he spent so much time alone in a padded cell.

So they've steered clear of the tourists, even the locals when they were able. They had lunch outside at a little café where the coffee was scalding hot and the food was mediocre. They had to anchor their napkins with their utensils and Eggsy got clotted cream on his tie, but he reckons that's not so bad.

They didn't talk while they ate. They haven't said much at all, in fact. Eggsy is okay with that, though. He's just glad Harry is here, that he's got this chance to try and make things right.

"They cleared some of the safe houses," he says. He sees no reason to keep Harry in the dark. He'll be a Kingsman again someday. They'll all see. "People got a place to stay now."

Harry just looks at him, like this news means nothing to him.

"I guess we better figure out what we're gonna do," Eggsy says. "If we're gonna stay here or…" He lets the sentence trail off, hoping Harry will volunteer to fill in the blanks.

Of course Harry doesn't. He just turns away. After a little bit, he starts walking again, following the coastal path.

Eggsy trots a little to catch up to him, then settles into a place at Harry's right side, just half a step behind him. Already it's starting to feel familiar, like he's been doing this for ages, not just a single day.

They walk down the beach. On his right the Channel stretches out towards France and Europe. Above them the air is thick with gulls. They pass a few other people out for a walk; some nod hello but most don't acknowledge them with anything other than a quick flickering glance.

Eggsy glances unhappily at his watch. They really do have to make a decision soon. If they're going to stay here tonight they need to get a hotel. They need to let Merlin know. They need to find someplace to have dinner. They need to get a change of clothes, toothbrushes, a phone charger, all the practical things that Eggsy almost wishes he wasn't responsible enough now to think of.

Half an hour, he thinks. He'll give it half an hour and then they really do gotta make up their minds. Even if that really means he'll be the one to make the decision and then try to persuade Harry to go along with it.

That's what he tells himself, anyway. If Harry refuses to play along? Well, he'll just deal with that when the time comes.

****

With five minutes to go until the deadline arrives, Harry stops walking. He turns to look out at the water. Those moments on the ferry were the aberration; for most of the day his expression has been tightly closed off, his mouth a thin line, giving nothing away of what he's really thinking.

"I've decided something," Harry says.

Eggsy's heart skips a beat just to hear him speak. Hope bursts into life in his chest, a hot flame burning bright. He stops a short distance away, granting Harry his space. "Yeah?"

Harry doesn't answer right away, though. He just gazes out at the waves as they roll toward the coast. He's silent so long in fact that Eggsy is thinking about prompting him to continue, when he speaks again. "I've decided that all this is real."

The words hurt worse than if he had just been stabbed in the chest. The world seems to spin all around him, he's gone all light-headed. _Oh my God oh fuck oh Harry…_

He hears himself make a choked-off noise. It's an effort to turn it into real words, to sound normal. "What made you decide that?"

Harry stares out at the sea. "Solitary confinement makes you hallucinate, you know." He almost sounds like the old Harry, giving a lecture, only this one isn't about manners and etiquette, it's about the tormented workings of the human mind. 

"I saw you quite often in that place. You, Merlin, even Chester. Sometimes it was the drugs they gave me. Sometimes it was just my own mind." He sounds almost nostalgic, in a way. "We had long, elaborate conversations. Only in my head, of course. I never trusted them enough to speak out loud."

Eggsy curls his hands into fists and tries not to fly apart with grief, with rage, with wild hope. It's the only thing he knows to do.

"So you see, I've been here before. The elaborate escape plans. Having to fight our way out, of course. The triumphant return to England." Harry lists each of these things dispassionately.

Eggsy swallows hard and thinks he might be sick. "So what was different?"

"You," Harry says. He finally turns away from his contemplation of the sea and looks at him. "You were so quiet this time."

Stunned speechless, Eggsy just stands there. It doesn't escape him that this right here, this inability to talk, is what's saved him. Saved _Harry._

All this time he was actually being so clever and he never even realised. When really he just never knew what to say.

"Previously you had told me about your life as a Kingsman," Harry says. "Your missions. Your new life. You were very proud of yourself. Other times you hated me. You were angry with me for letting you get so close and then letting you fail."

Eggsy chokes at that. He can't believe what he's hearing. Every word just stabs him harder, heart-deep pain that gets worse and worse as it spreads through him.

"But this time you were quiet," Harry says again. "This time I think you're real."

Tears burn his eyes, blurring his sight. He doesn't care. "Oh, Harry. I'm real. I fucking promise you. You really got out."

"Yes," Harry says. The mask cracks then, his face losing that tightly controlled neutrality, revealing the desperate _need_ underneath. The terror that he's just staked his remaining sanity on yet another lie.

And Eggsy answers with everything he has. "You got out," he says. "You're really here. I fucking swear it." He takes a single step forward and then makes himself stop, even though his entire body yearns to just _run._

But Harry doesn't back away. He just stands there, the wind at his back and in his hair, making him appear to move even when he's standing still. He stares at Eggsy, the man who saved him, who died under a foreign sun but came back to him, came back to him, came back to him.

Eggsy takes another step forward, sliding a little on the sand. "I'm really here," he says, and he sees a terrible thing then. It's not the wind that's making Harry look like he's moving. Harry is actually shaking all over.

He can't stand that, can't bear to think that he might do anything to prolong Harry's pain even one single second. "I'm really here," he says, and he takes that last step. And then he's there, and finally, _finally_ , he gets to wrap his arms around Harry and hold him.

It's like coming home. He doesn't know who makes the single, sobbing noise, but he knows he's never letting go. Not ever again.

Harry clutches at him, his arms fiercely strong at Eggsy's back. He's still trembling and his breath comes in stuttery little gasps, like he too has a terrible pain in his chest.

"You're really here," Eggsy whispers, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

He doesn't cry, as much as he wants to, much as he needs to. Neither does Harry. It's too soon for him to fall apart. He will, though. Later. It's inevitable. And Eggsy has every intention of being there when that happens.

The sun starts to go down while they stand there, gilding the water with light and colour. Little by little Harry releases his grip on Eggsy, bears more of his own weight. Eggsy lets him, following his lead. But he still holds on. He doesn't want to ever let go.

 _I love you_ , he thinks. _I love you. I love you._

At last Harry pulls back enough that Eggsy knows it's time. He loosens his embrace and leans backward a little. Not much, but it's enough. They move apart and already Eggsy hates it, hates that they can't spend the entire evening here in each other's arms.

In the sunset, Harry looks warmer. Younger. The light plays off the eye patch, a cruel reminder of what was lost. He is not shaking any more.

"You okay?" Eggsy asks.

"I'm not sure," Harry says, which is admirably honest. Even if it does hurt to hear him admit it out loud.

"That's okay," Eggsy says, and then winces a little. As if he's wise enough to have all the answers. As fucking if.

Harry glances out toward the sea, then looks back at him. "I owe you an apology for last night."

For a moment Eggsy just stares blankly, unable to think what this means. Then he remembers being thrown against the wall, the hard arm at his throat. Their kiss.

"No, you don't," he says. "I ain't sorry." He takes a breath and it doesn't even hurt that much anymore. "Besides, I was the one who kissed you. And I'd do it again if I thought you'd let me."

Harry gives him a long look. There's still something of the predator in that gaze, but it's less distinct now. It's more like his old look, the way he could always seem to see right into Eggsy's most secret heart. "And if I were to let you?"

"Then I'd do this," Eggsy says, and leans up to kiss him.

Harry recoils, and immediately Eggsy freezes. He's gone and fucked it up for real now, he thinks sadly.

But before he can even really start to pull back, Harry dips his head down and gently, so gently, kisses him.

It's nothing like the kiss last night. This kiss is soft and searching, even timid. But like yesterday, a tremor runs through Harry, one Eggsy feels throughout his entire body.

Only this time Harry doesn't step back. He stays where he is, kissing Eggsy on the beach while the sun goes down around them. Eggsy kisses him back, his head tipped up, one hand lightly touching Harry's arm, and the last of the pain in his chest finally ebbs away.

He doesn't move away when the kiss ends. He just stands there, wondering where they go from here, what he can possibly say now.

"Thank you," Harry says. "For everything."

This reminder of what he said last night makes Eggsy want to cringe a little, but at the same time it fills him with unexpected warmth. So Harry really _was_ listening. Weighing his words in the dark, trying to decide if Eggsy's voice was just another crack in his sanity, or the real thing.

"If I had known," Eggsy says. He's afraid he'll start to cry, but he's got to say this. He doesn't know when he'll get another chance. And he needs Harry to know this. "If I had even the _slightest_ fucking clue, I woulda been there so fast. I swear to you, Harry. I would _never_ have left you if I'd known."

"I know that," Harry says. He doesn't exactly smile, but something in his eye softens. "But you should know, I'm not..." He reaches up and for a moment Eggsy thinks he means to touch the eye patch. Then he drops his arm back down. "I'm not the man I was."

"I know," Eggsy says. Like he hasn't just spent a couple of the worst days of his life, thinking he would never get that man back again. "But I mean, I ain't the same either." So much has happened since they last saw each other, when they hurled ugly, hateful words at each other in an effort at drawing blood. He's had his share of regrets, that's for sure, and there's no telling what Harry's thought all this time.

He's not worried about it, though. He guesses maybe he ought to be, that he ought to wonder if there's really any coming back from something like this, or if he's just playing stupid childish wishing games.

But he doesn't think he is. Like Harry, he's decided this is for real.

He tries a smile. "So we're different. We're just gonna have to deal with that."

"Yes," Harry says quietly. This time he does smile. It's barely there, just a relaxing of his mouth, but Eggsy sees it, and it's enough. For now, it's enough.

"We'll be okay," he says. He's never believed anything so fervently in his entire life. He knows they'll be all right. It may take them a while to sort it all out, to figure out who they are now and how they fit together, but they'll get there.

He thinks of that email, the one Harry never got to send, the one he read until he knew it by heart. _Eggsy, I saw in you what someone once saw in me. Something that can’t be taught. The makings of a Kingsman._

_I hope you’re ready for what comes next…_

He looks at Harry and absolute joy wells up in his heart. Fuck yeah, he's ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now complete. Thank you to everyone who's read this far.


End file.
